


In the Moment

by gwinne



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 08:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15020969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwinne/pseuds/gwinne
Summary: a post-ep for "All Things"





	In the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first fic, written back in the summer of 2000 when we were all writing post-eps for "All Things"

Scully woke to the blue light of Mulder's fish tank, his scratchy Indian blanket pulled up to her chin. "It's says a lot a lot a lot a lot," she remembered him saying as she drifted off. Yes, Mulder, it is a lot, it's everything.

The apartment was quiet except for the filter in the fishtank and she found it somewhat ironic that she was on the couch, where she knew Mulder preferred to sleep; it was six years together before she even knew he owned a bed. She knew she should go home, sleep in her own bed with the new down comforter she bought to replace the old one, after the incident in January--she'd taken Mulder with her to the store, an odd moment of intimacy in this new thing that they were still becoming. Yes, home, with the open window letting in the April air, so crisp at night and warm in the day. She knew she should go home, to the quiet of her own things and her own thoughts, but she felt the pull of him, something he'd call an aura perhaps, beckoning her.

She stood in the doorway to his bedroom, the door half-open, half-closed. He wasn't even under the covers, sprawled over the bed asleep in his pajama bottoms. When did Mulder start wearing pajamas? One hand was raised over his head and the other rested on his belly. She stared for a long time at the sparse hairs of his chest thinking about what they would feel like against her cheek. Such a strange time in her life she had told Daniel only a day ago, thinking of Mulder, thinking of the fact that he infuriated her always running, running, even as she fell in love with him again and again and again, for all of his stupid old games and habits.

They were inching forward, both so close since the New Year's kiss and his mother's death and yet so far, always chasing the next big thing, just a few weeks ago with Cancerman and then his run-in with the monster in Vermont. When he'd gotten back, he'd asked her if she considered him her significant other and she so desperately wanted to say yes.

"Sometimes," she told him. "Like when we're walking somewhere and your hand is on my back or when we're just together in the car driving somewhere, anywhere, and I wouldn't change a thing."

He nodded--end of conversation. But this thing with Daniel, it made her realize that Mulder was always her significant other. When Daniel's hand was on her cheek and then when she lay her head on his chest, she was crying, but it wasn't for what she lost but what she was afraid of losing, this tenuous, precious thing with Mulder that they never really talked about. Maybe I want the life I didn't choose, she'd said, meaning both the life that chose her, this life with Mulder, and the life she could have had with the house and the kids and the dog, the life she only wanted to have with Mulder but that just didn't seem possible.

She turned to leave.

"Stay." His voice was gravelly.

How long had he been awake? How long had he known she was watching? She nodded almost imperceptibly and walked toward the bed. She took her jacket off and lay it over the foot-board and then she crawled up next to him, so her knees were almost touching his hip, so her shoulder was almost touching his, so their mouths were just inches apart. "If we only have one choice, one life to choose, I'm so glad," she said, answering him.

"Glad for what?"

"To have this, this life. Sometimes, though, I just want to slow down and just be in the moment, you know."

"Stop the car?" He did this often, circled back to a conversation they had days ago, weeks ago, years ago, expecting her to pick up the rhythm of his thoughts.

She nodded. "To enjoy this life, savor it, not give it up."

He pulled her up against him and she snuggled her head under his chin. A perfect fit. "When I told you the other day I was afraid of what I'd be missing, I wasn't being entirely honest. I'm afraid Scully I don't know what it means to slow down. I'm not sure I'd be good at. But I'm really good at running."

"And ditching..." she chided, but she smiled to let him know she was kidding.

"And ditching" he repeated and then kissed her hair.

"But I'm also afraid that if I don't slow down, stop the metaphorical car, I'll be missing something too."

"What's that Mulder?"

"Moments like this, quiet moments in the middle of the night in bed with you that don't involve some sleazy dive and eating take out and going through case files. Moments like going shopping to pick out sheets or herbal tea. Watching TV together. Watching you sleep. Kissing you just because, not because one of us is sick or injured or in pain and then thinking about the taste of your mouth."

She was crying. "Moments like this," she said back to him and then kissed his forehead. She looked into his eyes and saw herself there, crying, smiling, saw herself getting bigger as he pulled her mouth to his, hand on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and time seemed to expand. All things were in this moment.


End file.
